I woke up Sunday morning too early, as I always do. Once the Sun touches any part of my being, I am awake. Before shaking the sleep off completely, and as I waited for the other members in my party to wake up, I flipped on the tele and found myself taken immediately with an Australian championship rugby math. The Storm was devastating the Eels. Those dudes are brutal. I’ve never actually sat down and watched an entire game, but yesterday, you couldn’t get me to not watch it.
As violent as it was, I thought it might be a cool sport to take up. I’ve been looking for better ways to risk breaking my jaw anyway, and as I do have a quite large collection of polo shirts, I thought, “Hell, I should see if Denver has any leagues.” So far, the feelers are still out. If there isn’t one, maybe I should start it. Kickball isn’t as intriguing anymore and flag football is for wimps. Let’s all buy Canterbury gear and meet in City Park. I’ll print out the rules and we can have at the gentleman’s game. Afterwards, it’s off to the Irish Snug for black & tans and car bombs. Who’s in?